


Temples In the Dark

by abelrunner



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 115 Spoilers, Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moving On, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Unrequited Love, Vox Machina as a whole is mentioned but the focus is Gilmore, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 02:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abelrunner/pseuds/abelrunner
Summary: They don't tell Shaun immediately, and he never quite forgives them for that. They promise to visit, and in their defense, they do. Just not very often. And sometimes, after everything's settled, he gets a little sentimental and walks by the Raven Queen's temple. But he never lets himself be selfish when he sits down inside. Perhaps it's time he did.





	Temples In the Dark

They don’t tell Shaun immediately and he never quite forgives them for that.

Just based on pure logistics, he gets it. He runs full sprint back to Emon the day after, and the day after they’ve already run full sprint into Pandemonium for reasons he doesn’t learn for a while. He needs to make sure everyone’s okay, his staff, Sherri, let them know he’s fine.

About a month later, Keyleth walks in.

It’s a pleasant surprise. Not something he was expecting, that’s for sure. Not that he doesn’t love Keyleth but bare minimum he expected Vax to be with her.

She looks a thousand years older, solemn and sad, and the weight of what’s rest on her shoulders hits him like a ton of bricks.

“Hey, Shaun,” she says almost too softly for him to hear, and with a smile almost hurts to look at. He smiles back and can practically  _feel_ how thin and weak it is on his face, feels the sting in his eyes as he says, “Maybe we go in the back?” She nods. She follows.

She sits on a couch next to him and tells him everything, from when they went through the Siphon to now. He doesn’t want to interrupt, can’t bring himself to, so he listens and feels the tears stream down his face in silence. Just like hers. At least at first.

It’s the snowdrops that break them both. They cling to each other, their love for this fearless fool of a man a mutual scaffolding, at least at this moment. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when Sherri comes in with tea and a soft promise to watch the front, but he loves her for it.

After the tears of grief pass, and that takes a while, they sip lukewarm tea and talk about Vax. It’s nice, if a little jagged, more than a little painful. But Shaun figures Vax would want this. To be remembered with laughter, for Keyleth to smile and Shaun to smile with her.

_There was this one time…_

_And then he…_

_I don’t know what he thought would…_

The moon is up when she leaves, kissing him on the cheek and thanking him, promising to visit.

In her defense, she does. Just not very often.

The others come too. With apologies and stories and cheerful reminders of talk of franchises. Pike’s on the council in Vasselheim, Percy’s talking about technological fairs in Whitestone, Westruun’s recovered, but Shaun just wants to stay here for now.

They all promise to come back. 

In their defense, they do. Just not very often.

New adventurers come in. Not all of them remind him of Vox Machina but some do. He sponsors a new group, and whenever they come back, their cleric groans about how the bard will not shut up about Gilmore’s Glorious Goods.

“We’re paid to  _advertise,_ Karen!” The bard protests, making Shaun laugh.

“They were  _drow_.”

They’re young and vibrant, and sometimes they remind him so vividly of Vox Machina before the vampires and dragons and gods that it makes Shaun’s heart hurt.

Sometimes, when he does his evening walk after the store closes, he’ll take the long way around and go past the cemetery. It’s a little maudlin, to be fair, but sometimes he just can’t help it. The temple to the Raven Queen is there. Sometimes he walks past. And sometimes he goes in.

He never yells the way he wants to. Sometimes he wishes he could. At Vox Machina, at Vax, at the Raven Queen. He wishes he could be selfish, or foolish, or just a little irrational. But they’ve lost just as much as he has. They’ve lost more, really. Vax was a friend, not a brother, not a lover.

He sits quietly in the Raven Queen’s temple. It’s usually nighttime by the time he gets there, and most people go there at dusk, so he’s got the place to himself most nights. There’s candles, torches, a raven carved into the far wall. Keyleth told him what she looked like: dark and tall, a stark white mask with no emotion. It makes his heart pound just to think of it.

What would happen, he wonders, if he just. Said what he wanted to say? What could She do really?

He wonders if Keyleth feels like this. Or Vex. Like they could raze the Shadowfell, send it sprawling into oblivion, and it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy.

When he really thinks about, really stops and claws his way to the center, it’s the waste of it that’s truly galling. The waste of a young life, the waste of an incredible man who could have been a husband, a father, an uncle, a leader. A thousand lives lost because of this goddess and Her deals, a million souls that could have been, heroes all, without doubt; sons and daughters and grandsons and granddaughters, on and on, ended before they could even begin because Vax and Keyleth were stopped before they could really  _start._

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?” His voice is soft in the half-light, the tone almost experimental. No lightning strikes, no ravens descend from the shadows to rip out his eyes. And it feels good, almost. It feels right. So he continues.

“They said you took him right after Keyleth’s speech. Was that some kind of a joke? What is he to  _you_  anyway? Something to add to a collection?” He swallows past the lump in his throat and manages to choke out, “ _He was my friend.”_

The words echo before he continues.

“What did he ever do for you that wasn’t helpful? What did  _we_ do that displeased you, you thankless wretch?”

He finds himself standing almost without realizing it, walking down the center aisle to stand before the Raven Queen’s sigil. His voice bounces around the empty hall, and there are shapes in the shadows, with beady eyes that look down at him, glittering in the firelight.

“You and your  _deals._  What, it wasn’t enough? Defeating the Chroma Conclave, personally slaying the Cinder King, that didn’t earn him a moment of fatherhood? Saving the Emperor of Tal’Dorei from a demonic incursion wasn’t enough to let him see his sister’s children? Sealing Vecna wasn’t enough to let him live with Keyleth with the time he had?”

“Is this the act of a wise goddess? A just one?” The tears sting before they start to run down his face. He doesn’t know if his voice cracks from grief or rage as he snarls, “To hell with your  _deals._  To hell with  _you._ ”

The tears are still on his face as he strides out, his heart pounding in his chest. He half expects something to happen,  _something,_ but nothing does. No lightning bolts, no furious ravens… Just stars above him, the horizon a dull blood red in the distance, the air cool with the promise of autumn.

He scrubs at his face with his sleeve like a child and feels a bit better. Not much, but better.

A soft  _caw_ startles him.

A raven sits on the tree next to him, almost completely hidden in the dusk. It stares at him silently, watching, waiting perhaps.

“What?” Shaun snaps. “Are you going to tell on me?” The raven simply stares. Shaun stares back for a moment, defiant, before he feels the tears start to sting at his eyes again and he has to look away.

“They didn’t even tell me.” His voice breaks and he has to sit down, stumbling over to a stone bench outside the temple. “I thought I was their friend and they didn’t even tell me.  _He_  didn’t…”

The raven cawed again. Shaun closed his eyes.

“Keyleth said he didn’t even give them a chance to try and bring him back before he made a deal. But I wonder if he knew. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe She just… took advantage.” He’d never know. Not even Keyleth knew, but the bitterness in her voice told him she had her doubts, her theories. He had his as well. They made him want to spit.

“They should have told me.”

It hurts worse than it probably should. He was close with Vax for certain, trusted them all, cared enough about each of them to fight beside them against the Cinder King himself, but… But had they really ever been more than business friends,  _really?_ The thought made him uneasy. He’d trusted them with so much, but how much did they trust with him that they wouldn’t have if he’d just been Gilmore the Eccentric Shop Owner?

It’s a gloomy, awkward thought, the idea that you have far fewer friends than you truly do.

The raven caws again, jolting him out of his thoughts. Just as well. The gash of red in the west have cooled to a deep violet, and the streetlights, made from glowing crystals, have begun to shine with increasing brightness.

Again, he wipes away the evidence of tears with his sleeve, takes some deep breaths. He’ll cry later, most likely. At home. Perhaps into a cup of tea, or a pillow, or just as he walks through the door. It’s been a bad few weeks. As if the nightmares aren’t bad enough. First only the Cinder King, now the Whispered One features prominently, along with small, female bodies gouged by dagger and pierced by arrow. Sad, solemn Cassandra who deserved peace. Kaylie, Scanlan’s firebrand, who he had met only briefly when she’d come to Whitestone to help bring him back and then take him away.

_Gods, but isn’t it bad enough?_

He looks up and sees the raven still there, still watching him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault you’re associated with Her. I really have nothing against ravens in particular.”

The raven flaps its wings briefly and in some deranged sort of way, Shaun’s brain interprets it as a shrug.

“Do you know Vax?” Shaun asks. The raven does not so much as twitch in reply. Just stares. Which is a mite disconcerting but Shaun powers on.

“If you do, pass along a message, would you?” At this, the raven tilts it’s head just slightly. “Let him know I’m not going to forget him. And that he deserved better. He and Keyleth both.” His breath hitches as he continues, “I’m going to remember him the way he was. Just… just a massive idiot.” A laugh that’s half a sob escapes him, and then another, and another, until there’s no laughter at all anymore. “A singularly deranged individual!” The raven simply watches as he collects himself again.

“I’m sorry,” Shaun repeats. “I’m not myself lately.” He peers at the raven again, or at least where he thinks the raven is. Even with the assistance from the torches outside the temple and the streetlights, it’s getting rather hard to see it. Like it’s made of shadow. “As is made obvious by my continued conversation with woodland creatures-“

“Uh, milord?” Shaun nearly jumps out of his skin, looking up to find an older man, dirty and threadbare, staring at him. “Sorry, milord. Don’t mean to startle you. Was just gonna tell you that the cemetery gate’s closin’ soon.”

“Ah, er, thank you.” Shaun stands and brushes imaginary dirt from his coat to avoid the man’s wary gaze.

“Pardon me, milord, but… was you talkin’ to that bird there?” Shaun feels his face heat up.  _Lie._

“No, no, just, uh. Talking to myself.” Internally, he winces.  _That’s not **better.**_

“To… yerself?” The man looks, impossibly, even more concerned.

“I’ll leave you to your work,” Shaun says, disengaging and hurrying down the path before the man can say anything more. The raven caws uproariously, a cacophony of sound and movement as it beats its wings and flies into the air. One might interpret it as a wild bird being startled by sudden sound and movement, but Shaun gets the distinct and frankly offensive impression that he is being laughed at.

The walk home is uneventful. The streets are well-lit and quiet, and by the time he gets back, Sherri has already locked up the storefront and gone home. His apartment behind the store is dark and empty, and it’s never felt darker and lonelier. Shaun resolves to remedy this. He can hardly have the room to be offended at a goddess for a wasted life when he’s half-wasting his own moping in the dark. He wants company. He wants  _love_.

The bard from the adventuring group he sponsors now... Varis. Elven man, blond haired and blue eyed and frankly rather adorable. Every time Shaun so much as glances at him, the poor man gets flustered. Sherri swears that once, he nearly dropped an entire box of healing potions the group had bought after Shaun winked at him. She’d thought it funny.

_Something to think about._

But that is for later, the next time that group comes in, and that could be weeks. Right now, he feels tired, just so damn  _tired._  He barely manages to shuck off his clothing before collapsing into bed.

That night, he dreams of black wings against blue skies, the joy of flight and reunion… And a red-haired druid standing beneath a black and gold tree, a raven perched lightly on her shoulder.


End file.
